Moaning coming from the boy’s bed

Groaning rising from the boy’s throat

Whimpering which always irritates me

Gurgling that was a bit dramatic

Splattering that sounded like one thing, or how ever many things were eaten that night

Running from my chair

Slapping for my glasses

Whispering firm enough to rouse Dawn from falling sleep

Being questioned as she woke to follow my shadow and steps

Lifting him with a thin yelp, Dawn meeting us and waiting with pain on her face

Splashing as more of the same fell like a long sheet of water

Groaning as I held him

Crying as we took him to the bathroom

Calling for ease and for sleep

Pulling for towels

Rinsing of sheets

Squeezing warm water from a washcloth

Moaning for rest from the little baby who was a big boy moments ago

Lying down, saying nothing

Patting his back like a song

Falling asleep in a family bed against my normal wishes

Rustling sheets and placing new towels

Tapping on the laptop

Gulping water by the cup-full

Starting a new tradition of asking for liquid and chucking it

Telling myself it was 4am

Deciding about a doctor’s visit

Boiling water in my kettle so I could clear my throat

Waking up to a flinch or a stomach rumble

Being laughed at by my wife

Trying to calm her down

Spraying water and bubbles foaming in a machine to clean things

Vomiting again and again and again and one more time

Convincing Dawn that I was fine, though she felt unsettled in her stomach

These were the noises of our night.  These were the noises of our son’s sickness.